No More Lonely Nights

by Charlotte Lamb

  'I thought it was time you woke up,' he drawled, shooting back his cuff to show her the face of his watch.

  'Gone eleven! I'd no idea it was that late! I'm sorry, you should have woken me!'

  'You needed the sleep. Did you sleep well?'

  She nodded, self-consciously aware that her shoulders were bare and the towel a very inadequate protection against roving eyes. It had become damp now, and clung to her body like a second skin.

  'What's under the silver cover?' She bent to lift it from the plate on the tray and felt her stomach clamour at the sight of food. 'Oh, gorgeous! Bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes… I mustn't let it get cold, so I'd better dress quickly and start eating!'

  He grinned at her, grey eyes teasing. 'Is that a hint?'

  She smiled back drily. 'Well, what do you think?'

  He strolled to the door. 'OK, when you've eaten, come down and meet some of my friends, will you?'

  Sian threw a look of consternation after him, but before she could answer he had gone, closing the door after him. Some of his friends? she thought with a sinking in her stomach. What was he up to now?

  She was so perturbed that she had no real appetite once she sat down to eat the breakfast he had brought up. She tried some of it, ate some toast, drank some orange juice and some coffee, then she finished doing her make-up, her hands not too steady.

  She had chosen a dress of pleated cotton with a tight waist, scooped neckline and full, swirling skirt. The misty lavender-blue shade suited her, and she loved the plaited silver belt. She had picked plaited silver sandals to match it, and had given her eyelids a lavender shadow with the same silvery sheen as that on a moth's wing.

  She ruefully considered herself reflected in the dressing-table mirror. The soft romanticism of the dress, the belt, the silver shoes, were hardly sexy or exciting. Men weren't going to stop in their tracks or gasp, were they?

  'So what?' she asked herself. 'Who are you trying to bowl over?' Then she turned away hurriedly and made for the door, before stopping and going back for her breakfast tray.

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she met a young girl in a green wrap-around overall who smiled, said cheerfully, 'Morning!' although it must almost be midday by now, and then took the tray from her.

  'Thank you,' Sian said, and would have gone on to ask where she could find Mrs Cassidy, but at the sound of her voice Cass himself appeared in the doorway of a room across the hall.

  'Ah, there you are! Come and meet my family.'

  In some trepidation, Sian slowly joined him, flushing at the way his grey eyes wandered over her.

  'You look lovely,' he said softly, and she lowered her eyes because she didn't want him to know the compliment had taken her breath away.

  It was a while before she could say huskily, 'Thank you.' She had been paid many compliments before, by all sorts of men, for all sorts of reasons, from the terse, 'Not bad work!' she sometimes got from Leo, and treasured, to the practised insincerity of the office flirts telling her they really fancied her when they didn't, but merely wanted to coax her out on a date because they knew she would turn them down and that made her a challenge they couldn't pass by. No other man had ever made her feel weak inside at the way he looked at her, or made her feel she could walk on air because of something he had said.

  I'm in love with him, she thought, then angrily told herself she was crazy: how on earth could you be in love on such short acquaintance?

  He somehow had a strange power over her reactions, that much she couldn't deny. He caused all sorts of weird things to happen to her body; to her heart and lungs, her pulses and nerves, the blood circulating in her veins, her very skin. He was a drug to which she was wildly susceptible; just a little of him and she was having some dangerous symptoms, but that didn't add up to love, or to anything long-term, let alone permanent.

  He held out his hand with a faintly imperious gesture. 'Come in, then! You aren't shy, are you?' She should have ignored both his hand and his teasing voice, but while she was deciding what to do he caught hold of her and pulled her into the room.

  Sian's nervous eyes flashed around, receiving an impression of green and ivory: cool, light, springlike. The sitting-room was spacious and sunlit, with comfortable furniture, gently faded brocades at windows, a deep, soft carpet underfoot. This was both an elegant room and a family room—there were valuable and pretty porcelain figures everywhere, but also silver-framed photographs of children and dogs; an antique French clock stood next to a vase of wild flowers obviously crammed into place in a haphazard fashion, both of these standing on what Sian suspected to be a priceless Chippendale table.

  It wasn't the room that made her nervous, though; it was the people in it, all staring at her with what she felt were hostile eyes.

  Mrs Cassidy at least, smiled, patting the sofa she sat on. 'Come and sit next to me, my dear. How do you feel this morning? Did you sleep well?'

  'Yes, thank you,' said Sian, walking a little unsteadily as she crossed the room, because those unfriendly eyes were unnerving. There were four other people in the room—two strange men, an unfamiliar but very attractive girl, in a pink dress—and Magdalena.

  It was Magdalena who radiated hostility, of course, and as Sian sat down she made herself look at the other girl, challenging her, the way she would have stared back at a threatening dog in her path. Sian wasn't going to be scared off or put down by Magdalena, but she was puzzled by that overt hostility. What had she ever done to Magdalena, for heaven's sake, that warranted these black looks?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Cass interrupted her thoughts by introducing the others. 'Sian, I don't think you've met my brother, Malcolm, have you?'

  'Hello,' she said as the thin, dark young man smiled at her. He had a certain resemblance to Cass, but he lacked that visible aura of power. He seemed quiet and shy and a little unsure of himself, although he was quite attractive in his way, and the girl with him was very pretty indeed.

  Cass introduced her, too. 'Andrea Hill, a friend of Malcolm's.'

  Sian smiled; Andrea half smiled back, but with reserve. Sian got the impression that she knew all about the situation, and was firmly on the side of the Cassidy family. Andrea had possessive eyes and a determined jaw; she slid her hand into Malcolm's arm as if to make it clear he was her property. Malcolm, interestingly, looked startled; a bird taken by surprise by a cat.

  'You know my sister, of course,' Cass murmured. Before Sian could look at Magdalena, he added, 'And this is her husband, Robert Shaw.'

  Sian switched her smile to the third man, who began to smile back, then stopped as his wife turned angry eyes on him.

  'Magda!' Cass said ominously, and she looked at her brother, biting her lip and scowling like a sulky child.

  'Magda has something to say to you,' Mrs Cassidy chimed in suddenly, but Magda seemed in no hurry to say it.

  'Malcolm, why don't you and Andrea go and check on the workmen?' Cass suggested. 'They should have finished by now, but I can still hear hammering.'

  Andrea was in no hurry to be dragged away from this interesting conversation, but under those cool grey eyes she didn't quite have the nerve to stay. Cass was a very different proposition from his brother, and Malcolm was already on his way to the door, so Andrea had to go with him. When the door had closed behind them, Cass looked back at his sister encouragingly, one brow raised.

  Magdalena swirled round suddenly to face Sian; she shot one look at her, then looked down. Very flushed, she burst out, as if in accusation, 'It was me driving the car, not Cass!'

  'Oh, I see,' Sian said, not knowing quite how to respond, then there was a silence.

  'And…' prompted Cass in a firm voice, watching his sister, not Sian.

  'And I apologise,' Magda said through her teeth, looking up then, and eyeing Sian with hatred.

  'Magda!' Cass said, but this time she ignored him. Turning on her heel, she ran out of the room, slamming the door.

  Her husband sighed. 'I'll go and ta
lk to her.' He looked rather sheepishly at Sian. 'Sorry about this, she shouldn't have…she has this temper, and when she loses it she does stupid things.'

  He went out and Mrs Cassidy groaned. 'What are we going to do with that girl? Cass, should I go too? Poor Robert can't handle her, he gives in to her too much.' She got up without waiting for an answer. 'I'll make her come back and do it properly this time?'

  'No, please don't,' Sian said, appalled at the idea.

  'Oh, I think she should,' Mrs Cassidy insisted at the door. 'She really must learn not to do such dreadful things. She thinks she can get away with anything, and one day she may do something really terrible. She could have killed you. I'm sure she didn't mean to, and I'm sure the whole episode has frightened her, but she can't be allowed just to get away with it. Not this time. She must face up to what she did.'

  She went out and Sian stared at the window, watching the green sway of ivy on the wall, the dance of the wind through a maple tree at the edge of the lawns. Cass stood watching her, and she was very conscious of his nearness.

  'I'm afraid Magda was spoilt,' he said. 'The only girl, and she was delicate as a child—we all spoiled her, from my father down. Robert adores her, too, he never denies her anything. She has grown up thinking she can do just as she likes.'

  'Why didn't you tell me before?' Sian asked, still bewildered. She had said such terrible things to him; why hadn't he made her believe it wasn't him who had driven the white car?

  'I did,' he said flatly. 'You didn't believe me.'

  'You didn't really try to make me!' She thought back over the scene in the little wood, flushed and appalled by what she had said to him. 'You looked guilty!'

  'Maybe that was because I felt guilty,' he said, his voice weary.

  'Why should you, if it wasn't you?'

  'She's my sister.' He prowled up and down, his hands in his pockets, his dark head bent. 'I suppose I felt responsible for what she'd done.' She saw his sombre face from an odd angle and watched him gravely. What was he thinking? There was a silence which lengthened, making her uneasy; she breathed carefully, afraid of breaking the mood. It was so quiet in the room.

  'Magda was spoilt too early. She's always been unstable, given to these outbursts. She's possessive and jealous—she was jealous of Annette when they were both small, because my father made rather a pet of Annette, who was born just before Magda. My father wanted a little girl badly, and Annette was pretty and rather shy; even after Magda arrived, Dad went on giving Annette presents now and then, and as Magda grew up she resented that. She once got hold of a big doll Dad had bought for Annette. Magda smashed its head into a wall and stamped on the pieces.'

  Sian drew a shocked breath. 'My God! That's crazy…'

  Cass frowned. 'No, she isn't crazy—Dad thought she might be sick. He took her to a psychiatrist, but the specialist said she was just very spoilt and self-obsessed. He said it was perfectly normal for a child to be jealous if a parent showed fondness for another child, and it can be very hard if the other child is a sibling, let alone someone who isn't part of the family.'

  'I'm sure that's true, but children grow out of it!'

  He sighed, his grey eyes intent on her. 'Yes, exactly—but Magda has never learnt discipline, she doesn't hide what she feels, the way most of us learn to do. That's one of the differences between children and adults, isn't it? That when we're small we can't hide our feelings, but when we grow up we cover up all the time.'

  He was looking into her eyes and she felt her colour rising, a hot pulse beating in her neck. Was he still talking about Magda, or was he talking on two levels at once? There was a mocking irony in his stare and he was smiling crookedly—or was she imagining that?

  'Forcing another car off the road isn't a piece of childish bad behaviour!' Sian protested, hurriedly walking to the window to keep her back to him.

  'No.' His voice was hard. 'Don't worry, Magda isn't going to get away with it. Why do you think she confessed just now? We've all made it very clear that she has gone beyond the limit and that she has got to take some treatment again. The trouble is, she's perfectly OK except for this one area, this almost paranoid jealousy.'

  'But why me? Why should she be jealous of me?' Sian kept her eyes on the garden; watching the people moving about on the green lawns. The green canvas marquee was up, the stalls were being hung with flags and women were hurrying about with boxes of things to be put out for sale. Large tubs and troughs of summer flowers had been placed here and there, to give the right festive air, and Sian tried to be interested, but was only really aware of Cass behind her.

  'She thought you were bringing Annette here!' he said brusquely.

  Sian spun, green eyes wide. 'Why should she think that?'

  'Nobody had told her that my aunt had invited you, and when she spotted you in the car ahead, for some reason she decided you had Annette with you, you were bringing her back. She said she was afraid the wedding was on again, and so…'

  'And you say she isn't crazy?' Sian broke out, and he winced, his eyes a frozen wasteland.

  'I've said, she must see a psychiatrist. She does have a problem.'

  'You say that far too casually,' Sian said with an incredulous stare. 'Don't you realise that if I'd reported the accident to the police, she could be facing a serious charge today?'

  'Of course I realise it!' he said with impatience, catching her eye and looking hurriedly away.

  Suspicion hit Sian. She watched him, frowning, her mind working like an overheated engine. 'Is that why you didn't tell me that it wasn't you?'

  It was a shot in the dark, but it hit its target. His face tightened, a dark flush rose in his cheeks.

  'It was…' she whispered, shaken. He had let her go on believing that it had been him in the white car because he hoped she wouldn't go to the police and inform on him. And that meant only one thing—Cass had been gambling that he meant something to her.

  And he won, hadn't he? Sian stood there rigidly, white-faced, hating him. It was humiliating to know that he was so sure of her feelings for him.

  'Sian,' he said, catching her arms and bending to kiss her, but she pushed him away.

  'Don't you come near me again, not ever!'

  'I'm sorry, Sian. I didn't want to hurt you!'

  'Sorry?' The word was an insult; her voice shook. 'You don't know the meaning of the word!'

  'Do you think I wanted you to believe I could do a thing like that?' He was getting angry, too, his voice vibrating with harsh feeling. 'I tried to tell you the truth, but you wouldn't believe me.'

  'You didn't try very hard, though, did you?'

  'If you knew anything about me, you would have known I wasn't capable of a thing like that!' He turned icy eyes on her, his mouth curling.

  'But you were capable of using what I thought to get your sister off the hook!' she spat out, and saw his eyes flash. 'You could have convinced me if you really tried, but you didn't care what I thought!'

  'I cared,' he said through his teeth, and tried to take hold of her again.

  'Oh, sure you did!' Sian muttered, slapping his hands away. 'Don't try to touch me, or I'll hit you so hard you won't get up for a week!'

  He eyed her ominously. 'Don't threaten me, Sian.'

  'Then stay away from me!'

  'I just want to tell you the truth!'

  'The truth? You?' She laughed and his brows twitched together, black and heavy.

  'Yes, damn you! The truth! Do you think I was flattered when I realised you thought I was a hit-and-run driver?' His voice seared her, harsh and burning with sudden rage. She flinched away, frowning.

  'You had an option! You could have told me I'd made a mistake!'

  'At first I was too shaken. Insulted, incredulous—not to mention as angry as hell. It all happened too fast, then you went off to hospital with Piers and I talked to Magda and realised she'd deliberately run you off the road. I didn't know what to do, but I was afraid of the police coming into it because that might push he
r right over the edge. Her grasp on reality isn't too strong.' He paused, hesitating. 'And she's my little sister,' he added flatly. 'I have to take care of her, whatever she's done.'

  Sian understood that, and couldn't think of anything to say in response. After all, he hardly knew her—but Magda was his sister! Of course he had chosen to defend Magda, however much he hurt her.

  'Then why have you told me now?' she asked. 'Why not let me go on thinking it was you?'

  'Magda has to face up to what she did; she has to admit it and take the blame, or else she'll do something like that again—even worse, maybe! She can't be allowed to think she has some sort of immunity, can do as she likes.' He sounded stern, remote, and Sian shivered. His reason for telling the truth, then, had nothing to do with her; he was still concerned only with his sister.

  'I still don't think you realise what might have happened!' she accused, and he looked down at her, his eyes brilliant with anger.

  'Of course I realise! Whenever I think that you could have been killed I feel sick…'

  She wished she could believe the feeling in his eyes, but she dared not trust him any more. There was too much hidden between them; too many question marks in her mind.

  'And it wasn't even me she wanted to kill!' She met his eyes and saw them flick away, as they always did at the mention of Annette—the biggest question mark of all. Something else occurred to Sian then, and she frowned, watching him closely.

  'If you knew she hated Annette, why were you going to marry… ?' She broke off the question because she didn't think she could stand hearing him talking about Annette; she didn't want to know any more. He must have been deeply in love with her, or he wouldn't have risked marrying someone his sister hated that much. Or hadn't he realised until too late that Magda still hated Annette like poison?

  He wasn't answering her, anyway; he was staring at nothing, his face in hard profile.

  Sian made for the door suddenly. 'I'm going for a walk in the garden!'

  He followed. 'I'll show you the roses and the croquet lawn—can you play? We could have a game. They've set it up so that people can play this afternoon. They're charging them, of course—it's all for charity, everything is being done to make money.'